The Heinz Dillema
by mugglesftw
Summary: What is morality? To whom do we owe aide? How much is a human life worth? What is the price of doing the right thing? These are not easy questions, and they have no easy answers. When confronted with a moral dilemma that has no good solution, what is Ron Weasley to do? He must not only decide what is morally correct, but also what is best for himself and his family.
1. Stage 1: Obedience

Stage 1: Obedience

 _The first stage in moral development is characterized by a reaction to stimuli: It is wrong to steal, because one is punished, or it is good to steal, because it feels good to receive something one does not pay for. This is the stage of moral development inhabited by children. As a child, I follow the rules because I fear pain, or I break them because I can gain pleasure. Most of humanity rapidly moves past this initial stage of moral development._

"Ah, Rosie, get back here!" Ronald Weasley dashed the short distance down the lane to grab his daughter before she managed to stick whatever it was she had found into her mouth. The two year old girl screwed up her face and let out a loud wail, irritated that slimy rubbish she had picked up from the dirt lane was not being put in her mouth.

"Oh, silly, I told you we don't stick rubbish in our mouths," Ron said, picking his daugher up and hoisting her in his arms. He blew a raspberry into his daughters belly and she squealed with delight, quickly forgetting her woes. "Come on love, we've got to get back to the Burrow before your grandmother gets back. She wouldn't want to miss time with her granddaughter, would she?"

Hosting the toddler onto his shoulders, Ron stepped down the lane, whistling happily in the late April sunshine as he dodged muddy puddles in the lane leading away from Ottery St Catchpole. He'd wanted to take his daughter out for a walk, and they had gone a bit farther than he intended, but it was all in good fun.

As Ron neared the small wooden bridge over the stream along the path, he found a worried looking man peering confusedly about him, right before the markers that prevented muggles from getting into the Burrow.

"Hi!" Rose shouted, waving her pudgy arms excitedly.

The man whirled, his balding forehead slick with beaded perspiration, and his rain slicker looking muddied and ill used. His eyes widened when he saw Ron and his daughter, and he hurried forward. "You! Are you a Weasley?"

Ron halted, readying his wand in his arm holster. "Yeah, I'm a Weasley. Who are you?"

The man hurried up, red in the face and panting. "I'm Charlie, Charlie Prewett. I'm your cousin! Well, your mom's cousin. Molly's cousin. You must have heard of me?"

Ron relaxed slightly, but kept his wand at the ready. "Oh, yeah, I know you. You're an accountant, right?" He did not add, "the family squib."

"Stockbroker, actually. And who's this then?"

"I Rosie!" Rose squealed, and Ron got her down so that she could wave hello to the man. He had the red Prewett hair, and though he didn't look anything like Ron's mother as far as he could tell, Charles seemed a nice enough sort.

"Hello, Rosie," Charles said softly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a muggle picture, which he held up for Ron to see. In it, a smiling young girl with two missing front teeth laughed as she swung from a swing at a muggle park somewhere, her brown hair trailing in the breeze behind her. "This is my youngest daughter, Gisela. She's eight years old."

"She's lovely," Ron said politely. "Good to see you, Charles. But I've got to get back home, mum will be around soon."

"Wait! Please, wait. My daughter, she's sick. Leukemia. The doctors...they've tried everything. Nothing's worked. They say she only has a few months to live." With trembling hands, Charles got out another picture. The child in it could not have been more different. Her skin was pallid, and there was no smile. Her head was bald, and her eyes dull and listless as she sat in a hospital gown, staring up at the camera with dead eyes.

"I...I'm sorry," Ron stammered, unsure why this man was telling him about a dying child.

"You can do something!" Charles babbled. "You're a wizard! I know you are! Molly was, well, the whole family was. I've tried tracking you lot down for ages, hasn't been easy. Gideon and Fabian are dead, the rest of the family too. But I tracked Molly down, even if she is a Weasley now. And you! You must be a wizard! You can do magic, save my daugher! Please! She's your cousin!"

"I don't...I can't-" Ron stopped as a voice called for him in the distance.

"Ron! Rosie! Where are you?" From the woods, Ron's wife appeared, waddling along in shapeless robes, her huge belly proclaiming the imminent birth of her next child.

Ron waved, picking up Rosie in one arm. "Hello, Hermione. Sorry, this is my wife, I have to-"

"No!" Charles grabbed onto Ron's other arm, his face desperate. "Please, don't, you're my last hope! She's my baby and-"

" _Stupefy_!" A red bolt shot out of Hermione's wand and slammed into Charles, knocking him out and dropping him to the ground, where his body splashed in the mud. Ron nudged the man with his boot, rolling him over so he wouldn't drown in the muck.

"Ron, what was that?" Hermione demanded, waddling forward with her wand still drawn.

"He...he's my squib cousin," Ron said faintly, clutching his daughter. "He's daughter is sick. Some muggle disease. He wanted me to cure her."

"Well, we can't go around curing every little disease every time a muggle has a problem," Herione huffed, coming over to take Rose out of Ron's arms. "Come on. Ugh! Rosie is filthy! Do you want to obliviate him, or should I?"

Ron withdrew his wand, bending over to touch it to Charles temple. "I'll do it." As he muttered the spell, Ron noticed the papers fluttering in the breeze in a mud puddle, and picked them up. It was the pictures of Charles daughter. What was her name? Georgia? Something like that. Absently, he pocketed the pictures, shaken by the whole confrontation. He finished the memory charm, carful only to remove the memory of meeting Ron, and stepped away after his own wife and child.

"It's for the best," Ron told himself. "I'd only get hurt if I went about helping muggles."

 _Ultimately, the first stage must be left for it is entirely self centered. It is the stage meant for animals, the stage at which there is no actual moral reasoning, only response and reaction. Thankfully, humans are capable of much more complex moral reasoning._


	2. Stage 2: Self Interest

Stage 2: Self Interest

 _The second stage of moral development requires a degree of reflection and thought. How do my actions most directly benefit me? This is more than a simple response to stimuli as in the first stage, but looks ahead to the future. Will stealing something make me happy? Yes, because I will have what I want. No, because I may end up punished for taking it. Even if the response is not immediate, the individual looks forward to what will be their own ultimate good. This is still a very early stage of moral development, but an important one, as it opens the door to looking beyond the immediate consequences of our actions._

Two days later, Ron was getting ready to wash some clothes, and reached his hand into his jacket's pocket. He pulled out two mudstained pictures: one of a happy vibrant child, the other of a sickly girl near death's door. Ron flinched, and was tempted to destroy the photos. No good would come of interfering in muggle matters. He didn't even really know his cousin. Instead though, Ron once more pocketed the pictures, and set about cleaning the clothes with charms and some hot water.

Later that night, Ron sat on the bedside, examining the pictures, carefully charming away the mud. They lacked the life and vigor of wizarding photos, but they still conveyed their message well: here was a healthy girl, and here she was again, ravaged by disease. Ron could tell Charles Prewett had not been lying: his daughter was at death's door.

"Ron, Rosie's demanding you give her a bedtime story, can you-?"

"Of course dear," Ron agreed, standing and once more pocketing the photos. He kissed his wife as she waddled past him towards the toilet, then continued on to his daughter's bedroom.

He selected the Hopping Pot, and he was no more than halfway through it when Rose began to snore softly. Smiling, Ron bent down and kissed the little girl on her forehead. His hand absently brushed his pocket as he stood, and he frowned and dug out the photos. He started at them, then down at Rose. He shuddered. "Thank Merlin you're a witch, Rose. You'll never have to worry about this disease," Ron murmured.

His words did not reassure him though. The girl in the photos had once been like his own daughter. Full of life and laughter, the light of her father's life. Now she was dying, still only a child. Ron shuddered and hastily stuffed the pictures away. He went back to the bedroom, where Hermione was reading in her nightgown.

"I love you," Ron said, bending over to kiss his wife and stroke her belly.

She smiled up at Ron, returning his kiss. "You're instable."

"No, not that," Ron said. "Not tonight." His mind was still on the face of the dying girl, and of the pleading look on Charles Prewett's face.

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, then put her book away. "What's bothering you?"

Ron sighed, taking off his trousers and tossing them in the bin. "It's just...what happened with my cousin, a few days back. It's been bothering me."

"Ron, you shouldn't feel guilty. I know I reacted a bit harshly, but I saw him pawing at you and Rose and I just reacted. It wasn't too long ago that they put away Rookwood, you know. The war may be over, but I still remember. Sometimes I dream about it."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Me too. It hasn't been so bad since we've been married, with you next to me I sleep a little better at night."

"Exactly. And we did have to obliviate him. Muggles searching around magical places looking for magical solutions to their problems is not something we can afford to fool around with. Those new phones with cameras in them are enough of a problem for the ministry. They've caused Harry and I any number of headaches."

"Yeah." Ron thought about the picture of the girl, wasting away, and tried to force it out of his mind. "Plus, it would be awfully embarrassing for the brother in law of the Chief Auror to get arrested, not to mention being the husband of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. That would make for an awkward Christmas dinner."

"You weren't actually thinking of violating the statute to help, were you?" Hermione demanded. "Was it something serious?"

"I don't know," Ron lied. "I don't know much about muggle illnesses. I just...what if it was bad? I mean, he is family, if distantly. I would sort of want to help."

"Well, just remember that you have a small child, a wife, and you're about to be a father again. I'd hate for you to miss Hugo's birth because you were in Azkaban."

Ron forced a smile and shook his head. "Not a chance."

Still, he lay awake long after Hermione's breathing slowed and evened out, thinking of Rose, thinking of his own little girl in some muggle hospital somewhere, her hair falling out as she slowly died. He swallowed, but tried to force it from his mind. Charles was gone, and not coming back. He couldn't go tracking him down. Besides, what difference would a single muggle girl make? Muggles died all the time of all kinds of things, mostly things they did to themselves. It wasn't in Ron's best interest, or that of his family, to start foolishly crusading around solving the world's problems.

Ron finally fell asleep, but his dreams were troubled. In them, it was he who begged Prewett to save Rose, but the man did not say a word, only raising a muggle phone and flashing it in Ron's eyes, leaving him alone and helpless.

 _Ultimately, most humans go past simple self interest when it comes to moral reasoning. We are after all, social creatures. If only our own self interest motivated us, we would never have been able to create functioning and complex societies. Such social constructs require a deeper level of moral reasoning, and a greater understanding of our own moral obligations._


	3. Stage 3: Conformity

Stage 3: Conformity

 _The pressure to conform to societal expectations forms the basis of the third stage of moral reasoning, and it is at this stage that many adults function for all of their lives. I do not steal because if I did so I would be ostracized by my neighbors. I do steal, because it is what my own social clique deems appropriate behavior. It is at this stage that one looks beyond our own needs to that of the whole, and it is upon this level of moral reasoning that the basis for a functioning society can begin to be built._

The chime to the shop's door rung, and Ron looked up from the paperwork. George was already gone, as were the assistants, and Ron was about to leave himself. He frowned at the door, then his jaw dropped. Standing there, hat in hand, was Charles Prewett. The man surged forward when he spied Ron.

"You! Are you George Weasley?"

A sense of relief flooded Ron. He obviously didn't remember their previous encounter. "No, I'm Ron Weasley. Where're about to close though so-"

"Please, please you have to help me!" Charles once more dug out two photos. "This is my daughter, Gisela. Please, she only has a few weeks to live! We've moved back here, to London, she's not very far! Please, just come with me, she's dying. Leukemia. It's in its final stages, the doctors say there is no cure. But you're a wizard! You can do something, can't you?"

Ron swallowed, taking the photos from Charles hands. The first one was different. It showed a little girl who looked scarily like Rose did, a chubby toddler who was coated from head to toe in chocolate frosting, grimy hands reaching up as she laughed with a party hat perched atop her head. The second was of a bald girl of about seven or eight, with some sort of tube running into her nose. Her mouth was open slightly, her eyes vacant and unfocused. Her skin looked like parchment, stretched out over her skull so that she looked like a cadaver more than a living girl.

Ron was going to say no. It was what he should do. What was expected of him. Instead, he heard himself saying, "Let me get my coat and wand, and a potion kit. I'll come with you."

And he did, as Charles babbled his thanks, weeping openly and unashamedly at the news that his daughter was going to be saved. Ron thought about oblivating him again. The man would never know he had somehow made his way to Diagon Alley, or that he had found his family, or that Ron had promised to help cure the child.

But that picture. Ron swallowed. He thought about seeing his Rosie like that, dying alone in a hospital bed. He couldn't do it. He couldn't turn his back on this man, not with the evidence of his need shoved right under Ron's nose. He felt bound to help this man, family or no, because his child was so similar to Ron's own.

Charles led Ron down the alley and out the Leaky Cauldron, where Ron waved to Tom, the eternal barman.

"Oh, so he was related to you, then?" Tom said. "Thought it was funny, a muggle wandering in here, but they do from time to time. Said he was looking for the Weasley's, family business."

"Yes, he's my cousin," Ron said quietly. "A squib, you know. But still family."

Tom grimaced, but nodded. Despite Hermione's efforts at the Ministry, squibs were still seen as second class citizens by most, and Tom was not the most liberal minded of wizards.

Outside Charles hailed a cab. "Evelina London Children's Hospital," he told the driver.

Ron sat back and watched the cars go by. He hadn't ridden in a muggle car since that old ford anglia of his fathers all those years ago. Ron wondered if the old car was still prowling the Forbidden Forest. He'd have to ask Neville about that, as he was now the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts.

For his part, Charles fiddled nervously with his photos and chatted with the cabby. The drive was fairly long, but Charles shoved money at the cabby at the end and dashed up the steps of the hospital as soon as they arrived. The nurse at the reception area evidently recognized Charles, as he quickly got visitors badges for himself and Ron.

As they walked through the hospital, Ron's heart lurched. It was quickly evident that Gisela was not the only sick and dying muggle child in the world. They passed coughing children with dead eyes, parents who were quietly sobbing, grim faced doctors who talked quietly in corners, shaking their heads as they pronounced death for their patients. In each room they passed, Ron envisioned Rose, strange muggle tubes shoved up her nose, wheezing and sobbing as her life slipped away.

"Here, she's in here," Charles said, pointing at last to a door. "Maria! I found him! He's come! My cousin, Ron Weasley!"

Inside the room, a woman with red eyes sat beside the bed, where Gisela was dosing, the soft beeping of muggle machines giving the room an alien feel to Ron. He stared around at the various devices, totally lost and feeling completely out of place. He shouldn't be here. This was illegal.

But then he looked at Gisela, who blinked and opened her eyes. "Papa?"

"I'm here, sweetie, I'm here," Prewett said, getting down to the bedside and grasping his daughter's hands. "I've brought help. See? This is Ron. He's a wizard, like I told you about. He can make you all better."

Gisela looked up at Ron, her eyes showing just a hint of life in them. "Are you really a wizard?"

Slowly, Ron drew out his wand. "Yes, I am. I don't know if I can help you, but I'm going to try. Now, tell me, what exactly is this leuki-whatsits?"

Over the next half hour, Ron got a thorough rundown of what leukemia was, its causes and effects, and what the most modern treatments for it were. As they talked, Maria's hands flew, her Italian accent becoming rather noticeable. Ron wondered how his cousin had met and married an italian woman, but decided that at this juncture that wasn't important.

"Visiting hours are almost over," a nurse said, sticking her head into the room. "Say your goodbyes dear, I'll have the kitchen send up some soup if you want it."

"I threw up the last soup," Gisela complained. "I don't feel hungry."

The nurse looked worried, and glanced at Gisela's parents.

"Please, just for tonight," Charles begged. "We don't…we don't know how much longer she has."

The nurse slowly nodded. "Ok. Do you need anything? Should I send for a priest or a grief counselor?"

"Father Vincent was here earlier," Maria said. "He prayed the rosary with us."

"Alright." The nurse closed the door, leaving Ron with his new relatives, who were all looking at him with desperate hope.

He swallowed. "Well, since it's a disease of the blood, maybe a blood purifying potion and a blood cleansing charm?"

He worked long into the night. Ron had become much better at potions over his auror career and during his time helping George with the joke shop. A simple blood purifying potion was easy, but time consuming to make. Thankfully the ingredients were common enough, and Ron had them in his potion kit. He cast the charms over Gisela, who didn't flinch despite the fact that Ron knew that they made your blood feel like it was on fire.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Ron asked.

"I'm on a lot of morphine right now," Gisela said dreamily. "And it's not as bad as the chemo therapy."

Ron swallowed, and checked the potion. "Right, this should be ready. Drink this."

Gisela readily downed the potion, making a face. "I hope I don't throw it up."

Waving his wand, Ron added on some anti nausea charms. "You should be OK. Now, I've really got to get going, my wife is going to be worried sick."

"Will it work?" Charles asked, not taking his eyes off his daughter, who was drifting back to sleep.

"It should, I think," Ron said. "If it doesn't come back to the shop and we can try something else. I'll do a bit of research and see what I can turn up."

He left the hospital and found a quiet alley to apparate from, feeling a mixture of guilt, elation, and sadness. He knew what he had just done was against the law, but he was hopeful that he had cured Gisela. However, when he'd gone back through the hospital, against his better judgement, Ron had peeked into a room where weeping had been coming from. A doctor had been pulling a sheet over a small, still form, as a woman wept softly in the corner as a nurse hugged her.

Ron hadn't seen the face of the dead child, but in his heart, he knew who it was.

It was Rose. Someone's Rose had just died. And Ron hadn't tried to save her. No one had.

Because it was against the law.

 _The most fascinating part of the third stage of moral development and the later stages is that conflicting moral beliefs can be held in the mind at the same time. One group may judge an action to be morally reprehensible, another may applaud it as morally righteous. We must then weigh the differing moral arguments, and decide which is the most compelling. Perhaps the most famous of these problems is the Heinz Dilemma._


	4. Stage 4: Law and Order

Stage 4: Law and Order

 _The fourth stage of moral development revolves around the concept of the law being moral and just. This is perhaps the most vital stage for a society to reach for it to become functional, as a standardized codex of ethics that are agreed upon and adhered to are vital for civilization to flourish. I do not steal because the law forbids it, or I do steal, but will accept the consequences of my actions. While there are higher stages of moral development, this is the stage that many adults stay in for most of their lives._

Ron appeared outside of his home with a loud pop, looking up at the darkened building with a faint smile. Already it had begun to resemble the burrow, as Ron and Hermione had constructed a second floor on top of the decently sized cottage for upstairs bedrooms. They were in Godric's Hollow, not far from Harry and Ginny's own home. While physical distance meant little in the wizarding world, there was something comforting about having his best mate and sister nearby in the case of an emergency.

Well, except when he really, really didn't want to be the cause of an emergency. A ward twigged and just as Ron was moving towards the door it burst open and Ron's sister Ginny Potter burst out, wand drawn.

"Hello Ginny," Ron said. "I suppose Hermione called you over when I didn't turn up?"

"Ron, where have you been? You were supposed to be home hours ago! Harry and George have got half the auror department out looking for you! Especially after Hermione mentioned that a strange muggle man had accosted you a few days ago!"

Ron winced. "Look, I'm alright, OK? I just...I had some things I had to take care of. Can I see Hermione? I suppose I should let her know I'm back safe and sound."

Ginny harrumphed, but after waving her wand to confirm Ron's identity, she allowed him to step past her. Inside Ron found Hermione looking rather ragged in the kitchen. She practically flew into Ron's arms, letting out a sob.

"Oh Ron, I was so worried! George had said you should have left hours ago and when you weren't at the pub or with Harry I thought about that man claiming to be your cousin and there are still a few death eaters unaccounted for and I just-"

"Shhh, it's alright, love," Ron said, hugging his wife tightly. "I just had something that needed doing. I'm alright, everything's fine. I know I should have told you, but…"

Hermione separated from Ron, her cheeks still wet, and glared up at him. "But what, Ronald Weasley?"

"But it wasn't strictly speaking legal. And with you being the Special Undersecretary to the Minister and all, I didn't want you involved. That way, if something happens, it's just me that gets in trouble."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What, exactly, were you up to?"

After a moment's hesitation, Ron withdrew the two pictures Charles had given him and handed them to Hermione. He couldn't find any words to say, but he hoped his wife would understand.

Hermione studied the pictures, then gasped. "Oh sweet Merlin, what have I done? You mean Charles really did have a sick daughter?"

"She was dying. Leukemia. It's cancer of the blood. I actually know quite a bit about it now," Ron admitted.

Hermione bit her lip, looking up from the pictures. "If I had known...I'm sorry, Ron. I overreacted, both times. It's just...I saw him grabbing at you and Rosie, and I panicked. And tonight, I was alone with Rosie, and the baby's due any time now, and I was just so worried."

"I know, shhh, it's alright," Ron said, drawing his wife into his arms once more.

"Oh thank Merlin," a familiar voice said, and Ron turned around to find a flushed looking Dean Thomas behind him. "Where were you mate? We've had the whole bloody department out looking for you. I haven't seen Harry this upset since when we were taking down Yaxley and you took a hex from him four years ago."

"I'm fine now," Ron said, smiling and waving. "You can cancel the alert. Don't worry, I was never in any real danger."

There there was a series of loud cracks outside, and then Ron closed his eyes as he heard yet another familiar, panicked voice. "But it's alright now, really. He saved her, she's looking so much better! The doctors will be by any time, and they can tell you!" Into the kitchen, between a grim faced Dawlish and Williamson, came Charles Prewett. "Yes, that's him! That's Ron Weasley, he's my cousin you know. He cured Rose. He's a wizard, just like you! Gave her some special blood cleansing potion and did some spells. She looks so much better already. Ron, please, won't you tell these two gentlemen who you are?"

"Hello, Charles," Ron said, his voice tired.

"Weasley, you've got some explaining to do," growled Williamson. "I just had to finish obliviating half a dozen muggles. The only reason I didn't do this one is he claims to be a squib, and that it was you who did some magic on his daughter."

"That can't be true," Ginny said, coming into the kitchen as well, making the small room rather crowded. "Ron isn't enough of an idiot to go breaking the Statue."

Dawlish nodded, eager to get this over with and not looking forward to arresting his boss's brother in law. "Well, if he's lying, we'll just obliviate him and take care of that little girl as well, no real harm done."

"I did it," Ron said, stepping forward. "Hermione didn't know. No one else did. Charles is my cousin. Rose, I mean, Gisela, was sick. Dying. I used a potion and a charm to try to cure her."

Dean closed his eyes and groaned. "Merlin's balls Ron, couldn't you have just played stupid? Just once, for old times sake?"

Slowly, Dawlish withdrew his wand looking nervous. "I um, I have to take you into custody now. You and the squib."

Ron nodded, reaching into his robe and withdrawing his wand. When Williamson swore, Ron held it out to him. "Relax, Williamson, If I was going to fight you, you'd already be unconscious. I know what I did, and I'm willing to pay the consequences."

"Ron, no, you can't-" Hermione began, but Ron shook his head.

"Remember SPEW? Hermione, this is my SPEW. What I saw in that hospital...it wasn't right. Just like when you first met Dobby. Something's going to have to be done."

"What's a SPEW?" Dawlish demanded, looking suspiciously at Ron as Williamson took away his wand.

Hermione looked at Ron long and hard, then exchanged a glance with Ginny and Dean. Ginny nodded immediately. After a moment's hesitation, Dean stepped in and took Ron's elbow gently. "I'll take him. You two get the squib back to headquarters."

Williamson looked like he was ready to protest, but Dawlish nudged him. "Hey, they're both DA, and he's Potter's best mate and brother in law. If Thomas wants to stick his neck out, let him. Come on, let's get this one into a cell."

Dean led Ron outside the house, and Ron took a moment to look back at his wife. She was leaning on Ginny, one hand on her swollen womb as she looked at Ron, her eyes filled with tears.

"I love you, Hermione," Ron called.

Hermione nodded, holding up the pictures of Gisela. "I love you too. And Ron...I understand."

Ron's stomach lurched as Dean apparated them away. When they arrived in the ministry, Dean dragged Ron down to the prison level. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ron. Your version of SPEW? You don't remember what a mess that was?"

SPEW had been a pet project of Hermione's for a long time. Once she had realized that wizards had enslaved an entire race and kept them in bondage for years, Hermione had made it her life's work to free the house elves and give them basic rights. While her early efforts in the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare had been unsuccessful, once she'd gotten a job at the Ministry of Magic she's been able to make real headway. It had taken years of messy political battles, with that git Malfoy at the head of the opposition, but Hermione had finally gotten a law passed emancipating elves who wished it and granting all elves basic rights.

"I do. Merlin's beard, but I do. And Dean, I think this may be even worse."

Dean let out another heavy sigh. "Well, you'll have to pay the piper now. This is going to be so much parchment work. Oh well, at least I get paid overtime."

It had been a long time since Ron sat alone in a cell. He still had nightmares about being kept at Malfoy manor. Not about the beating he'd received, or about the threat of torture, but the screams of his future wife as Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her. Now, he feared much the same thing. He wasn't that worried about himself; he could handle a few years in Azkaban now that the Dementors were gone. No, instead he worried about his wife, and baby Hugo who was due soon. He worried about Rosie, what she would do when he daddy never came home.

And, he worried about Gisela. He could hear the quiet sobs of Charles in the distance somewhere. Ron wasn't much for praying, but he silently begged whatever higher power that existed to please, please let his spells work on Gisela. If she lived...then it would all be worth it. What price could you put on the life of a little girl? He certainly couldn't put too high a value on Rosie. She was worth all the gold in britain. She was worth Ron's very life. Gisela might not be his own daughter, but she was someone's daughter. Charles' daughter. She was, after all, family.

After a while, the sobbing stopped, and Ron heard a faint voice. "Will she be alright?"

Ron swallowed. "I think so. I did the potion right, and the spell. But I don't know, I've never tried to treat a muggle disease. I make party tricks and used to be an auror; I'm no healer."

"As long as she'll be alright, then it was worth it," Charles sighed. "I just...I remembered how people like me were treated. I had hoped I was wrong, or that things had changed, but when they threatened Maria and Gisela….I knew it was just as I remembered. I was a filthy, worthless squib."

Ron swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

In the darkness, Charles' chuckle echoed hollowly. "What are you apologizing for? You're the only one who was willing to help. You may just have saved my baby girl's life."

"Well, I did obliviate you the first time we met."

"Did you? I don't remember it."

"Er, that's sort of the point."

"Oh. Well, I forgive you. You saved my daughter. I'd pay any price for that."

"I know. I would too. My own daughter, I mean. At first I didn't want to help you, but then I realized what I would do if my own little girl was in danger. I'd do anything to save her. In that, we're not so different. The only real difference is that I have the ability to help. Even if I do have to pay the price for it."

 _In the Heinz Dilemma, a man named Heinz's wife is terminally ill. The local druggist has the medicine to cure her, but wants to charge twenty thousand pounds for a single dose, and the wife will need many doses to be saved. Heinz is unable to raise the funds, and begs the druggist to set a lower price. The druggist refuses, citing high costs of development and the demand for the medicine. The dilemma is this: is it right for Heinz to steal the medicine? Why, or why not? One's explanation reveals at what stage of moral development you reason at. For example, in the fourth stage, there are two answers. No, it is wrong to steal, and therefore Heinz should not take the medicine. Alternatively, Heinz should be willing to steal the medicine, then face justice for his actions and thereby upholding law and order. Of course, there can be far more complex reasoning as to the consequences of saving a life, and those are examined in later stages._


	5. Stage 5: Human Rights

Stage Five: Human Rights

 _The fifth stage of moral development begins when one realizes that other people are entitled to fundamental human rights, the first and most basic of which is life. It is wrong to steal, but if one must steal bread to survive, than it is morally justified. Or, it is wrong to steal if one is taking more than the basic means of survival or depriving another of their own ability to survive. This stage of moral reasoning is in fact, fairly advanced. Most adults do not operate at this level of moral reasoning a majority of the time, but a few do, and they are often our thinkers and philosophers._

It had been a while since Ron had attended a full Wizengamot session. He technically had a seat available for him, an honor bestowed upon the best friend of the Boy Who Lived and one of the Heroes of Hogwarts. He didn't exercise it often, only going on occasion when Hermione asked him to or for judgements that he found particularly interesting. Never before, however, had Ron seen the Wizengamot this packed, not even for Harry's trial all those years ago.

"Thanks again, Percy," Ron said quietly as his older brother sat beside him, lugging a case heavy with parchment.

Percy gave Ron a tired smile. "Well, it was the least I could do I suppose. I didn't become a barrister to turn my back on my brother in his hour of need."

"Yeah, well, you do realize I'm guilty, don't you?"

"Not technically. You see, as a squib, Charles Prewett did have the right to appeal for magical aide. It's just that well, as I told you earlier, you went about things in a rather boneheaded way. If you'd told Hermione or myself what you were planning on doing, we could have helped. Gotten Gisela into St Mungo's or something. At the very least, not end up with half a dozen obliviated muggles who caught wind of your curing her."

"She is cured?" Ron pressed.

Percy shrugged. "Well, we don't know actually. Just that Charles and Maria called in a doctor and a some nurses to start testing Gisela, and that she looked better according to her father. But that's beside the point."

"But that was the point, Percy. She was dying. All the kids in the hospital were dying. If I could cure her, me, someone who is pants at potions and healing spells in general, what could we do for all the other kids in hospitals just like that?"

Percy frowned and shook his head. "Worry about that later, after I've got you off. And for the love of Merlin, don't-"

Percy fell silent as Sturgis Podmore, the new Chief Warlock, banged his gavel twice to call the trial to order.

First up was Charles Prewett, who admitted freely to coming after Ron for magical aide. Percy was his barrister as well, and argued that as a squib, Mr. Prewett had every right to appeal for magical aid, especially since it was not impossible that Gisela herself carried magical blood, and might turn out to be a witch. The prosecution pointed out that Prewett's actions could have lead to a number of breaches of the Statute of Secrecy, and that a cursory investigation had revealed at least three such breaches as Prewett had been neither subtle nor quiet about his inquiries into magical Britain.

Then came the squad of obliviators, the lead of which was a rather remorseful looking Millicent Bulstrode, who kept glancing at Ron and licking her lips during her testimony. "Yes, we did have to obliviate the muggles, but really it was just a precaution. Ron performed all magic behind closed doors. It was just a few cursory prompts to help them find new reasons for the hospital equipment to fail, or the sudden shift in Gisele's health."

Ron was surprised that Millicent was covering for him at all, until he glanced at the visitors gallery. Up high, his glasses shining eerily as the light of a candle reflected off of them was a very grim looking Harry Potter. Ron swallowed, wondering what his best friend and brother thought of Ron's actions. Beside Harry sat Hermione, who looked faintly ill, despite Ginny sitting next to her and patting her hand. On Harry's other side was Neville, his own face looking completely blank.

Millicent, like a lot of other people who had been nominally on the wrong side of the last war, lived in perpetual fear of the Head Auror and the hammer of justice he could bring smashing down on their heads at any time. So far, Harry had never abused his power as far as Ron was aware, but he did know that everyone was still in awe of the Dark Lord's Bane. Harry noticed Ron looking at him, and turned his head slightly to focus on Ron. Harry's eyes were filled with sympathy, and he nodded at Ron, before shifting his gaze back to the stammering Millicent, who finished up her testimony.

Then it was Ron's turn. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," he stated for the record. He gave a detailed version of the events leading up to the night he'd gone with Charles to the hospital.

"And what magics did you perform at this muggle institution?" Podmore asked.

"A blood purification potion and a blood cleansing and restoring charm," Ron answered. "Leukemia, it's a disease of the blood, you see. Gisela didn't have much time left, I could tell she was dying. I had to do something, and fast."

"Ah, so you were acting in fear of a magical life, and took the necessary action to save it, then?" Podmore asked.

"No," Ron replied. "I just needed to save Ro-I mean, Gisela. I didn't care if she was magical or not. She was someone's baby girl."

Percy groaned softly, and Ron glanced at him. It dawned on Ron just then that Podmore had been offering him an easy and convenient way out.

For himself, Podmore frowned slightly, and shuffled the papers in front of him as whispers broke out in the Wizengamot.

"But she was family, was she not?" Podmore prodded.

"Yes," Ron agreed. "Distantly. I didn't care about that though. I just saw a sick little girl. I did what I would like to think any decent wizard would; I used my magic to save someone in need."

"Yes, well, we can't just go saving any random muggle now can we," Sturgis chuckled. "After all we-"

Anger flared up in Ron as he thought of the small, sheet covered form he'd seen as he left the hospital. "And why not save random muggles? There were loads of kids in that hospital, and they were all dying! You, Millicent, you said you checked on the hospital again this morning. Was Gisela better?"

"I-" Millicent swallowed and glanced around. "Er, yes, as I said, we had to modify some more memories because of her sudden improvement. They weren't sure if she was cured yet, but it seems your potion reversed a lot of what they called 'keemo therapy' along with some other improvements to her health."

"You see?" Ron said, turning back to Sturgis. "We could help them. There are a lot of kids with Leukemia all over the world. If just a simple charm and potion could cure them, why not give it to them?"

"Ronald!" Percy hissed, his face flushing as he leaned over his podium.

"Don't you Ronald me, Percival!" Ron thundered, whirling on his brother. "Maybe you can turn your back on people when they're in need, but I bloody well can't. Especially not kids." He whirled again, glaring at the gobsmacked Podmore. "I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. If curing sick kids is against the law, then by Merlin's beard I'm bloody well guilty. I'd do it again too, and I-" Ron tried to continue to talk, but no words came out of his mouth. He glanced around, and saw Dean Thomas with his wand pointed at him, shaking his head with a sick expression on his face.

The Wizengamot was now in an uproar. Everyone was talking at once, and Sturgis couldn't get control again for several long minutes. When he finally did, he cleared his throat. "The court will take a recess will both councils conduct further fact finding. Court will resume in three day's time at 11 o'clock sharp." He banged his gavel, and Ron found himself hustled away by Dean.

"I told you, play dumb Weasley. Why did you have to go and open your bloody big mouth," Dean growled. "We could have worked on this later. Over the course of a few months. But now you're about to spend those months in Azkaban."

Ron felt a pang, and glanced up to where Hermione stood, tears streaking down her face as she watched him be hauled away. Feeling a deep sense of shame, Ron looked down and silently berated himself for not being about to keep his head down and his big mouth shut.

An hour later, Ron heard someone walking down the corridor. Toward his cell. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"'llo, Harry," Ron said quietly, not getting up from the hard palate he was laying on, staring at the ceiling.

"Hello, Ron."

After a few moments of silence, Ron put on his best goofy grin and glanced over at his brother. "Made a bit of an arse of myself in there didn't I?"

"Maybe," Harry said, taking off his glasses and rubbing them absently on his robe. "Why'd you do it?"

"What, cure the sick little girl, or blow up in front of the whole bloody wizengamot like that?"

"Both"

"I cured Gisela because she was Charles' Rose. His baby girl, who he'd do anything in the world for. And...and I went off like that because I realized that the world is full of Gisela's. There are a lot of people out there, sick and dying. Muggles, I mean. And we don't do anything. Sure, technically I could have cured Gisela because she's a distant relation and her father's a squib so maybe she's got magical blood, but what if she hadn't been? What if Charles had just been some crazy muggle who had heard that maybe, just maybe, somewhere out there there were people who could cure his daughter, save her life. I would have still gone."

Ron stood and shuffled over to the bars, holding out the pictures of Gisela he'd kept with him. The aurors had not been very thorough in frisking Ron, and hadn't even found them.

Harry reached out and took the pictures, studying them carefully. He smiled. "She looks a bit like what I imagine Lilly will look like in a few years. She's just a few months old now, but give it a few years…" Harry's mouth formed into a thin line. After a short silence, he looked up at Ron. "Hermione said you said this was your version of SPEW. Do you mean that?"

Ron hesitated, then nodded. "Mate, I saw them pulling a sheet over a dead kid in there. I don't know who it was, or even if they were a boy or girl. But I saw the mum in there, crying her eyes out as the nurses tried to comfort her. And that was a big hospital Harry. Maybe bigger than St Mungo's. And it was full of sick kids. Sure, some of them were there for stuff that wouldn't kill them I'm sure, but a lot of them were. And I realized that the muggles must have dozens of hospitals like that, just here in England. How many little girls like Gisela? How many lives lost each day when someone like you or me could fix them up with a quick potion and a charm?"

"They'll try to put you away forever, you know," Harry said quietly. "They're already talking about it. Sturgis and Kingsley both came to talk to me. They're worried about the pressure, here and internationally. You're a bit of an international celebrity apparently, and there were reporters from all over to see the trial."

"You mean people were anxious to get any dirt they could on you, Harry," Ron said quietly. He swallowed. "Look, I'm sorry mate, I know you don't like the spotlight, and I don't expect you to do anything. Just...take care of Hermione, will you? And little Hugo and Rose. I don't know if I'll end up in Azkaban or not but-"

"Don't worry," Harry said, pocketing the pictures. "I'll handle it." He held out his hand, and Ron shook it.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said. He felt tears in his eyes, and tried unsuccessfully to blink them away. "I just hope Hermione will forgive me. I might miss Hugo's birth after all."

For a moment, Ron thought through the blur of tears that he was looking at Harry from nine years ago. His eyes seemed to burn with green fire, and his face took on the same look of fury and anger Ron hadn't seen on his brother since he'd slain Tom Riddle. But Ron blinked again, and Harry was back to his quiet, smiling self.

"I said don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything."

Ron sat back on his bed, allowing himself to weep once Harry had gone. He knew what he had done had been the right thing to do, and he didn't regret that. What he did regret was how this would affect his family. "If only I could have kept my bloody mouth shut after all."

 _The key to the Heinz Dilemma and the other dilemmas set forth by Lawrence Kohlberg, a famous researcher into human morality, was that there was no right or wrong answer. The goal was not to determine if Heinz should steal the medicine or not, but rather each individual's reasoning as to why the medicine should be stolen. The reasoning behind each person's own answer to the dilemma revealed their own level of moral reasoning and showed what they valued most. As with all great moral dilemmas, it is important to remember that a truly deep answer grasps that there is no clear cut answer. Stealing the medicine may cure Heinz's wife, but it may doom others to disease. The lack of monies could mean that the druggist would be unable to make more medicine, or that his costs incurred developing the cure would never be recouped, meaning he cannot research further miracle cures. Nevertheless, the dilemma demands an answer, and action to back it up._


	6. Stage 6: Universal Human Ethics

Stage 6: Universal Human Ethics

 _The last stage of moral development is characterized by not just the awareness that every human is possessed of certain rights, but that every action should be in line with a universal ethical principle. It is not stealing to take this, for its owner does not have need of it, and another requires it to save their or another's life. It is stealing to take that, for I am not motivated by pure means. Unlike the other stages of moral development, there has never yet been show a human that operates at this level or moral reasoning. It is an idea, a pure principle that we should all strive for, to know what is moral in each situation because we are in tune with the will of a guiding universal principle. Perhaps the greatest among us, such as the Christ, or some equally enlightened and transcendent being, have operated at this level. However, our lives are far more complicated than this, and often we are motivated by base instinct, emotion, or physical need. This does not mean we should not continually strive to reach this level of moral development, for it is in this striving that true moral progress is made._

In three days, Ron had heard from no one, save for Percy, who had come down to quietly discuss Ron's case only once, then vanished. He had received no letters, no tokens. Not even his wife had come, and Ron's heart was cracked and broken by the abandonment. He now deeply regretted his actions, and at times he even found himself wishing he had never cured Gisela. That only made him feel even guiltier, and though no Dementors were present to induce thoughts of despair and hopelessness, Ron felt them all the same.

On the third day, Percy came to collect him. "Whatever you do, say nothing until it is time. I'll back you up when the time come, but don't make this any harder than you have to," Percy told Ron quietly. Instead of Dean, it was Dawlish who escorted Ron to the courtroom.

"Sorry about this," Dawlish said lamely as he dragged Ron up the stairs. "Orders, you know."

Ron snorted, roused from his self recriminations. "That was always your excuse, wasn't it, John?"

Dawlish bristled. "Unlike you, some of us think before we open our big mouths. About how we've got families to feed, and about what the consequences of our actions will be."

Ron snorted, but inwardly he reeled as Dawlishes retort struck home. When they arrived in court, Ron looked around, but he didn't see Harry or Hermione or any of his friends around. Only his father, looking very grave as he took his place among the Wizengamot. Ron was surprised his father hadn't recused himself again, but supposed after Ron had damned himself with his own mouth, even his father had been forced to turn against him. The thought of that left a bitter taste in Ron's mouth.

Inside the courtroom pandemonium exploded as soon as Ron appeared. Once he was seated, Podmore lifted his gavel, and rapped it, lifting it again and setting it down with an enormous crash. The entire courtroom flinched, and Ron realized that it hadn't been the gavel alone that had made that last report. He turned, and his jaw dropped.

The door to the courtroom had been blown clean off its hinges, knocking over Dawlish and Williamson from their guard posts. Into the courtroom strode Harry Potter, his head seaming to float in midair as his torso flickered in and out of visibility. On his right hand was a ring set with a black geometric stone that gave off a cold light despite its solid black color. And in his hand….Ron swallowed. He recognized that wand. It was the wand laid to rest with Dumbledore. The Wand. The Elder Wand, the Wand that Harry had vowed never to take up again. And yet, here he was, with the Elder Wand in his hand as the Cloak of Invisibility rested on his shoulders and the Resurrection Stone on his finger.

On Harry's right flank was Ginny, her hair done up in a tight warriors braid, her own wand in hand as her eyes flashed with a wicked inner fire. To Harry's left was Neville, the Sword of Gryffindor naked in his hand as he looked stone faced at the Chief Warlock, his jaw set in the same fashion it had been when Neville had stood up to Voldemort himself. Behind them came the rest of the DA dressed and armed for battle. Ron recognized Cho Chang, Susan Bones, even Luna Lovegood, though where Harry had found her Ron had no idea as the last he'd heard she'd been somewhere in South America.

From the side Minister Shacklebolt stood, his face going flushed. "What is the meaning of this, Head Auror Potter?" he bellowed.

"We are here to listen to the outcome of this trial," Harry said calmly "You don't have a problem with that, do you, Minister Shacklebolt?"

Ginny and Neville remained at Harry's side, while the rest of the DA fanned out around the courtroom, taking up positions of readiness. Ron noticed that the only Auror's still on their feet in the room were DA members themselves. He craned his neck and saw prone forms in aurors rooms in the hall. He hadn't even heard the sound of fighting over the bedlam in the Courtroom.

"I confess that I am somewhat concerned by the manner in which you have chosen to attend this court session," Shacklebolt snapped. "I thought we'd discussed this in private, Head Auror."

Harry nodded gravely. "Indeed, we have. Please, proceed with the trial Chief Warlock. I want to hear the verdict."

Sturgis looked at Shacklebolt, a look of panic on his face. "I wasn't, we weren't going to-"

"I motion for a verdict by vote," Arthur Weasley said, standing up, his tattered formal robes a stark contrast to the starched robes of those around him. Dear old dad. Even though he had three wealthy children now, he and mum refused any and all charity, as they called it. They even found ways to spoil their grandchildren, though where they got the money for that Ron had no idea, especially now that there were so many of them.

To Ron's surprise, Draco Malfoy stood from his own seat at the Wizengamot. Draco rarely took a place at the Wizengamot, preferring to lead a quiet life out of the public eye after his SPEW debacle and his wife's failing health. Ron hadn't even realized the bastard was there. What was he doing? "I second the motion."

That caused a lot of shocked murmurs, until Harry raised his wand. Immediately, all was silent as every eye in the room fixed upon the Master of Death. "Motion carried. And remember, this is a formal session. Vote according to your belief in the law."

The votes were rapidly tallied. The result was the one Ron had expected and dreaded. Guilty of conspiring to violate the Statute of Secrecy.

Harry nodded, as if this was what he expected. He looked Podmore right in the eyes. "Do you agree with this verdict, Chief Warlock?"

Reluctantly, Podmore nodded. "Well, yes. Of course, there are extenuating circumstances, and considering Mr. Weasley's long history of service we can-"

There was a loud bang, and Podmore flinched along with everyone else. Harry's eyes blazed as he twirled his wand. "Corruption. Incompetence. A refusal to act and do the right thing. I have worked hard. So. Hard. To rid the Ministry of these things. To instill a new and better tomorrow. It shouldn't matter that Ron is my best friend, my brother. If he's guilty, then bloody well sentence him like it."

Podmore looked at Shacklebolt, an expression of perplexed helplessness on his face. For his part, Kingsley was glaring at Harry. "Is this what you want, Potter?" Shacklebolt spat. "To trample on everything you've worked for."

"Let the man pronounce his sentence," Harry ordered, his gaze never wavering from Podmore.

With a heavy sigh, Sturgis lifted his gavel and banged it. "I concur with the verdict. The sentence is ten years in Azkaban, the breaking of Mr. Weasley's wand, and a fine of 1000 galleons."

Everyone was quiet and looking at Harry. Save for Neville, who was trimming his fingernails with the razor sharp edge of his sword. "You know, it seems awful funny to me that Ron here is going to jail for healing a little girl. Seems like he should be commended."

Podmore flicked his eyes to Neville, then back to Harry. He licked his lips. "Well, it's not so much that as the fact that he did magic in a muggle hospital resulting in the need for a lot of oblivations, and that he appears intent on flagrantly violating the Statute again."

"You know, I heard that the little girl was dying. I went to the hospital myself. There were a lot of dying children there," Luna said, her voice dreamy and her eyes distant and unfocused. "I found three children that would have died that day. I cured them all. Right in front of the doctors and nurses. With Hannah's help of course. She's a very good healer."

There were gasps and cries from the crowd. Podmore's eyes goggled. "But that...you just admitted to...young lady I'm afraid that we're going to have to arrest you."

No sooner had those words left Sturgis mouth then there was a deafening crack, and his podium split in half as the gavel in his hands shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Potter!" Kingsley roared, drawing his wand. "I told you I will not stand for this! I will have law and order! The Statue is-"

A flash of red light flew from Harry's wand, and Kingsley fell over, unconscious. "Old and outdated, I think," Harry said calmly. He glanced over at Hannah and Luna. "Were the muggles trying to burn you at the stake?"

Hannah pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, the doctors were laughing and hugging us. The children got out of bed and sang and danced. Their parents cried tears of joy. One nurse told he'd marry me on the spot. I declined of course, I am taken after all."

"But...but the muggles hate and fear us!" someone from the crowd said.

"Not all of them they don't." Ron's father looked around the room, his eyes tired and sad. "Some do of course. But why? I'll tell you why. Because the only interaction with the magical world most muggles have is of one of us trying to hurt them, kill them, or exploit them somehow."

"I'm muggleborn, and my family never hated or feared me," Justin Finch-Fletchley declared loudly. "Yours ever hate and fear you, Dean?"

Dean Thomas slowly shook his head, remaining silent, his knuckles white as they gripped his wand.

Percy stood and cleared his throat, then gestured to Sturgis Podmore. "Chief Warlock, you stand relieved."

Sturgis looked around from where he was sprawled, then sighed heavily. "Only the Minister for Magic can dismiss the Chief Warlock."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're a brave man, Podmore. Perhaps you'd be willing to join the new regime?"

"The Statue is necessary. To violate it is a crime. If you would have me say otherwise, I will not," Sturgis declared.

Harry nodded, then produced a roll of parchment, which he held up for everyone to see. "This is signed by the Queen this very morning. As the Minister for Magic serves at the pleasure of Her Majesty, she has the right to dismiss him and name the replacement at any time. She finds that the Crown no longer requires the service of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Seems she's picked Percival Ignatius Weasley."

With a flick of Harry's fingers, the parchment sailed over to the now ex-chief warlock, who examined it closely. After a minute, he looked up and pursed his lips. "This is, in fact, valid. However, you must know that this will destroy our very civilization. You will cause the deaths of untold witches and wizards, Head Auror Potter. You and your headstrong lackeys will doom us all."

Harry shrugged. "I saved the Wizarding World once. A few days ago an old friend of mine reminded me that we share this world with an awful lot more people than that. I did a bit of soul searching, and realized that I was done with following bad orders on little intelligence. For once, I was going to stand with my friend and do the right thing instead of waiting for someone else to tell me what to do. If the Wizarding World does need saving, I'll just have to do it again."

There was a lot of commotion after that, during which Draco Malfoy came up to Ron. He smiled thinly. "I hope you know what you're doing, Weasley."

"Why?" Ron said, the weight of years of old grudges in that single word.

Draco sighed heavily, then looked over to where his wife sat, looking pale and thin as always. "You're not the only one with a sick loved one you'd do anything to cure, Weasley. And...maybe the muggles have some of their own healing tricks. Who knows. Good day." And with that, Malfoy was gone. It would be years before Ron spoke to him again, and when he did, he found he hated the prat just a little bit less.

Hours later, after Percy had appointed Padma Goldstein as the new Chief Warlock and the general hubbub had died down, Ron sat alone with Harry in the DMLE Head's office. He'd already had a tearful reunion with Hermione, and was still feeling rather dazed by the day's events.

"Tea?" Harry asked, lifting a steaming kettle from a drawer and motioning. Ron nodded dumbly, and Harry poured for the both of them, adding Ron's favored two sugars and cream without needing to be told. To his own, Harry added lemon and a pinch of salt.

Ron sipped the tea. "You didn't have to do all that, you know," he said quietly, staring into his cup.

"You're wrong."

Ron looked up, startled, and Harry gave him a rueful grin and shook his head. "I went to the hospital too, you know. Talked with Gisela and her doctors. You cured her Ron. That was all it took. One simple potion with dirt cheap, common ingredients, and a charm that even a fourth year student can learn to perform well. And you were right. There were loads of sick kids there. Not all of them can be cured so easily perhaps, but enough can. And…well, then I got to talking with Hermione. You know how it is."

"She's brilliant," Ron agreed. "She probably could have thought of a good way out of this whole mess that was a lot easier, if I'd just asked her."

"Oh, she can, and she did. But honestly, Ron?" Harry chuckled and winked. "I like your way better."

"But you just overthrew the bloody government!" Ron protested. "I mean, you're my best mate and all, but bloody hell Harry, why do all this for me?"

"It wasn't for you."

Ron flinched back, stunned.

Harry smiled wanly and shook his head. "It was for those kids, Ron. For all those muggles we could have helped, but didn't. For all the muggles killed in the last war. At the hospital, I used the Stone. I didn't talk with the dead I conjured up there, but I didn't have to. I could hear what they were telling me just by looking at them. Why didn't you save us? Why won't you save those here now?"

Harry played with the ring on his finger, sighing heavily. "I never meant to go find it again. It was to remain lost for all time. But, well, once I did go looking for it, I found it straight away. It was waiting for me. I'd do anything for you, Ron. Anything. I was ready to overthrow the whole damn government so Hermione didn't have to raise Rose and Hugo alone. Hell, Ginny was ready to kill and or obliviate half the ministry and I was most of the way to helping her. Mum, well, you know mum. Dad had to practically hold her down to keep her from barging in and breaking you out that first night."

Ron laughed, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like mum alright. But, Harry, are you sure? I mean, I had second thoughts in that jail cell. What if this isn't the right thing to do? I mean, the Statue is there for a reason. It is important."

"Honestly, you can never really be sure about these things Ron. All I know is that pretending something doesn't exist is a sure fire way for it to sneak up and bite you on the arse later. I'd like to think we all learned that lesson thanks to good old Fudge, but alas, it seems we have some more learning to do."

Ron was about to reply, when the door banged open. A panting Ginny glanced wildly about the room, then sprang forward and grabbed onto Ron. "Ron, Hermione, her water just broke! Hannah's taking her to St Mungo's but-"

The rest of what Ginny had to say was lost as Ron sprang towards the door, bowling over half a dozen people as he sprinted for the lobby and the floos. He didn't quite remember how he got to St Mungo's and into Hermione's room, only that he found himself grasping her hand as she panted and howled.

"I love you," Ron said, squeezing his wife's hand as tightly as he dared. "I'm sorry."

"I bloody well hope so!" Hermione screamed, glaring up at him. "If you'd done this a few months earlier I could have had an epidural!"

Ron blinked and glanced at the healer in attendance, who shrugged. "Let it go dearie, women say all kinds of things while they're in labor."

Hours later, Ron held the bloody, screaming mess in his arms as Hermione gasped and panted. Cradling his son in his arms, Ron quickly cleaned away the mess of blood and other fluids from his screaming newborn son. He smiled as he placed Hugo into his mother's arms. "He's beautiful," Ron whispered as he kissed his wife's forehead.

She smiled tiredly, her face wet with tears as she stroked Hugo's bald head. "He is. I do love you, Ron. Even if you are a bit thick sometimes."

Ron shrugged. "Well, I do try and muddle through to the right thing in the end."

 _What is the correct answer to Heinz's dilemma? Should he take the medicine, or not? That is something we must each answer for ourselves. For my part, I say this: there may be consequences if Heinz takes the medicine illegally, some of them dire. However, this much I do know; if he does not, she dies. And I find her life something precious enough that it is worth risking the world for. What do you believe?_

 _I know what I believe, Gisela. I believe that Ronald Weasley did the right thing when he healed you. And I think he's still doing the right thing today, every time he and his friends heal another sick child._

 _Because I love you more than life._


	7. Epilogue and Authors Note

Epilogue and Author's Note:

No one knew where they came from at first. It had started in London. Children on death's doorstep, those beyond any treatment, the ones the doctors had quietly realized were going to die no matter what was done, started getting better. Men and women in strange clothes would walk into hospitals and those children would suddenly be well again. Children with advanced AIDS and HIV would suddenly have healthy, vibrant immune systems. Those with cancer that had metastasized into multiple organs were found to be free of any abnormalities and were once again healthy. Those who needed organs where none could be found suddenly had theirs regrown in mere hours, and quickly regained strength and health.

Great Britain was in an uproar. All across the world, families desperately tried to bring their sick loved ones to the United Kingdom in the desperate hope that this miracle cure would work for them. And to everyone's shock, they were cured. Children first, then the rest. No matter how severe the disease all were made healthy, save only for those for whom the only real malady was time itself, and those whose illnesses were of the mind.

Where did these people come from? Who were they? Their leader, one Ronald Weasley, spoke for them. They were witches and wizards. They had gone into hiding because of persecution, but now they were back, and with them they brought gifts for mankind. They were not to be found only in Great Britain, but the witches and wizards of Britain now faced persecution from their fellows for coming out of hiding.

The world was outraged. Some because they thought magic was evil, some because they had lost loved ones in the long years magic had abandoned the world, but most because their saviors were being threatened for saving them.

Over time, the other witches and wizards in much of the rest of the world also came out of hiding. They too brought gifts. Most were wonderful; diseases cured, pollution cleaned up, famines ended. Others were dark and terrible. Several nations fell under the sway of Dark Lords for a time.

Until the Master of Death revealed himself. It did not matter if one was the Dark Lord of the Rus, ruler over a vast and powerful land with terrible dark creatures at his call, or the Dark Lady who instilled terror over a small village in remote Papua New Guinea. Harry James Potter would come for you. And when he did, with Neville Longbottom, bearer of Excalibur and Heir of Arthur at his side, and the fiery lady Ginevra mistress of the broom and ace of the skies above him, you were doomed. No Dark Lords held power for long, though a terrible price in blood was paid. In the end, Harry Potter met a dark and terrible end, as the one who bears the Elder Wand is fated to do. But Potter's son Albus took up the Wand, and continued his father's legacy. The world, it seemed, would never lack for a protector.

After a time, the world became used to magic. It did demand magical solutions to things, but it also provided science to solve many magical problems as well. As science and magic found uses for one another, a golden age of mankind dawned. Soon, humanity left its cradle, and ventured beyond. First came Venus and Mars. With magic and science working hand in hand, the once lifeless and barren worlds became lush gardens. Venus became New Eden, a verdant world of sprawling hot jungles that would be the breadbasket for humanity for millennia. Mars became a great foundry, renamed Vulcan as its fiery forges produced the ships that would seed the stars.

Ronald Weasley did not live to see all this, nor did Gisela, his first patient. He died not long after his brother, Harry Potter, when a plague that not even magic could cure at first swept his hospital. However, the children he healed did live on, and they carried his legacy with them. First thousands, then millions, and then billions, then uncountable teaming masses lived because Ronald Weasley had decided to heal them or their ancestors. In time, even Ron's name was forgotten as humanity forged on to a new future, leaving behind Earth and its legends. But his legacy endured, and it was one of life.

 _Authors Note:_

 _Thanks for reading. I confess, this work was a passion project of mine, but I hope you enjoyed it. I've read one too many arguments that wizards, for whatever reason, should not use their magic for the good of humanity at large for any number of good reasons. Personally, I have to disagree. There is so much good that could be done if we stopped fearing the unknown and got out there and just did it. We've all been given something, and called to use it for the good of all. I know it's not a standard I live up to, but I do pray that one day, when I am called to account, my Master will not look at me and cast me out into the darkness. Instead, I hope for only one thing: Well done, my good and faithful servant._

 _I'd like to think that in this story, Ron lived that kind of life. In my writing, I can only hope to inspire the same in myself and others._

 _This story, and a lot of my moral reasoning, is of course inspired by the teachings of Jesus Christ, particularly the parable of the Three Servants found in Matthew 25, and Luke 19._


End file.
